


Crema Verse Prompt Fill #33

by twobirdsonesong



Series: Crema Verse [36]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Barista Blaine, Customer Service & Tech Support, Established Relationship, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 16:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twobirdsonesong/pseuds/twobirdsonesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>poemsingreenink asked you: I’ve worked as a barista and, oh man, sometimes there are some UGLY customer / employee interactions. For a prompt, has Kurt ever had to witness Blaine get chewed out by a customer in the Crema verse?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crema Verse Prompt Fill #33

He’s not a regular, the man in the trench coat with the expensive briefcase who bursts into Blaine’s Starbucks one dreary Friday morning.  Blaine knows his regulars.  He’s not even a  _sometimes_  or a  _once-in-a-while_  customer.  He’s brand new to Blaine.  Maybe he’s a tourist, but the cut of his suit under the long coat says otherwise.  Or maybe he’s someone in New York on business and he needs a cup of coffee before the start of some big, important meeting.  Whatever he is, he’s an asshole. Blaine knows it the moment the man walks in. He barges through the door as another man is trying to leave.  All rules of decency and etiquette say the person exiting gets to go first.  It’s common sense, but this man pulls the door open, wrenching it from the other man’s hand, and shoulders past him.

Blaine grits his teeth.  He’s met too many people like this in his life.  He’s had to smile and serve people like this man, day after day for years, and sometimes he worries he’s not going to be able to handle it.  He worries that all the anger and resentment, all of the stress he’s packed down deep will surge up and explode out of him.  He worries that today might be that day.   He’s not even supposed to be there that morning; he was supposed to stay wrapped up in his blankets and Kurt’s arms until Kurt had to leave for work.  But instead, he’s been at his store since 6am, and he can’t even hide behind the solid steel safety of his beloved espresso machine.  He’s on register for once, because he’s covering a shift for Sugar and Jeff deserves to be on bar once in a while.

There’s one other person in line in front of this man, a woman (Jen, a regular) ordering a simple drip with room, but Blaine can see the man is almost vibrating with impatience.  Jen barely has time to slide her Gold Card back into her wallet before the man is practically elbowing her out of the way.  Blaine shoots her his most sincere, apologetic look, and she just shrugs as if to say, ‘I’ve seen worse.’  And Blaine is sure she has.

“Good morning, sir,” Blaine starts.  He knows some men, businessmen with briefcases and overinflated egos, like to be called  _sir_.  And some women won’t tip if he calls them _ma’am_.  “What can I get started-” but Blaine doesn’t get to finish his standard greeting.

“Yeah, let me get a large sugar-free chai?  With soy.”  The man tosses a credit card down on to the counter and doesn’t bother to even look at Blaine.  It’s an American Express black card and Blaine’s gut rolls at the sight of it.  It’s not the first one he’s seen and every time it leaves him slightly nauseated; he hates to even touch the card.

Blaine swallows; he knows how this conversation is going to go and his pulse starts to speed up in horrible anticipation.

"I’m sorry, sir, we don’t carry sugar-free chai."  The man’s head finally snaps around.  His eyebrows are drawn tight and his lips are set in a thin, mean line.  Blaine thinks he must be a CEO of some company, to have perfected an expression of such disdain, such displeasure.  That split-second look alone tells Blaine that this man thinks him incompetent. 

"Yes of course you do.  I’ve had it before. A hundred times."

 _No you fucking haven’t._ Blaine licks his lips and shifts on his feet.  The door to the store has opened and closed a few times already, but he doesn’t dare look down the growing line.

"Sir, I promise.  It’s not a product we carry.  Our chai comes from a concentrate and it’s definitely not sugar-free.”

 _Please let it go_ , Blaine thinks, but it knows that’s not how it’s going to go.  He wants to be back home in the safety and comfort of Kurt’s arms.  He wants to be hidden away in a practice room at school with his sheet music and a piano.  Anywhere but here.

"I’ve had it before,” the man interjects, barely before the last word leaves Blaine’s lips.  Blaine’s fingers curl into a fist.  “The other store makes it for me all the time.  Just get me my drink.”

Blaine grits his teeth so hard his jaw aches.  The mythical Other Store where anything and everything is possible.  He wishes he could find this Other Store and burn it to the fucking ground.

“Sir, if you’d like, I can make it for you using a tea bag and-"

"Listen, I don’t want tea.  I just want a damn chai."

 _You ignorant asshole_.  Cold sweat breaks out along Blaine’s lower back and his apron is suddenly digging into his neck.  The strings feel pulled too tight around his waist and he can feel the eyes of everyone else in the store on him.  There’s no way to make this work.  Blaine can’t even  _just say yes_  and get it over with.  His throat works, but there are no words that won’t get him written up or fired.

“Sir,” he manages. 

“Get me a chai or get me your fucking manager if you can’t even do something so simple.”

“Hey! Excuse me.”

Blaine’s eyes close and his body freezes as a voice cuts through.  Kurt’s voice - Kurt’s lovely, familiar, achingly beautiful voice.

Blaine opens his eyes on a sharp breath and Kurt is standing in line, just a few people back, and he’s bristling with rage.  His pale cheeks are pinked and his eyes are bright and hard, narrowed with fury.  Kurt looks shocked and scandalized and Blaine wishes a hole would open up in the floor and swallow him down. 

“Who do you think you are, talking to him like that?”  Kurt’s voice is deeper and louder than usual and it sends a shiver through Blaine.  He’s never seen Kurt angry like this before.

“This is none of your business, kid,” the man says dismissively, barely sparing Kurt a glance.

And that’s clearly the wrong thing to say and do.  Blaine watches, helplessly stunned, as Kurt steps out of line and up to the man.  Kurt’s taller than him by a good couple of inches, even without his favorite boots, and that day, he’s wearing a military-cut jacket that makes his shoulders even broader.  He is strikingly impressive – straight-backed and ferociously gorgeous, almost leonine in that moment.

“You think just because he’s in an apron and behind a counter that you can talk to him like that?  Like he’s worthless?  Who the fuck are  _you_?" 

Blaine pales and then flushes.  His heart double-beats in his chest and, for a long moment, he cannot breathe at all.  His blood is pounding and the adrenaline is thrumming high – hot and urgent and telling him to run or fight or something.   _Anything_.  He has never in his life had someone stand up for him like Kurt is doing just then.  His brother was always there for him, but that’s family.  That’s different.  This is  _Kurt_.  Kurt, who look ready to punch this man.  For him.  For  _Blaine_.  His bold, beautiful Kurt is defending him, in front of everyone.  Blaine’s heart beats faster for a completely different reason.

“You need to leave,” Kurt says, deadly serious.  Blaine almost gasps.

“What? You can’t just-” The man looks utterly affronted.

“Leave,” Kurt almost spits the word.  “And go find your chai someplace else.”  Kurt never blinks.  Suddenly, the man’s face twists in rage and his shoulders hunch down in defeat.

“Fucking hell,” he finally mutters.  He snatches his card without a single look at Blaine and storms out, coat billowing behind him and briefcase clunking against the doorframe.  The thick, roiling tension that had gathered in the store seems to leave with him.  There’s even a slight smattering of applause from some of the customers, but Blaine hardly hears it over the rush of blood in his ears.

Blaine sags against the counter and Kurt leans in.  His face has relaxed, lost its aggressive sharpness.  Now he just looks desperately concerned and worried; his eyes are huge and searching on Blaine’s face.  Kurt reaches across the counter and finds Blaine’s hand.  His palm is warm against Blaine’s icy skin.

"I-I’m sorry you had to see that,” Blaine mumbles.  He’s suddenly acutely embarrassed that his boyfriend just saw all that, that he saw just a glimpse of what Blaine’s life has been like for so long.  But Kurt just strokes the back of Blaine’s knuckles with his thumb; the touch is soothing, comforting, and Blaine can feel his heart finally slowing, calming.

"Does that happen often?"  There is no pity in Kurt’s voice or eyes, only care and concern.

 _Almost every day_ , Blaine thinks, weakly.  _Sometimes it’s worse_. 

“I – yes,” Blaine admits, so softly he almost can’t hear it himself.  But he knows Kurt does, because he lifts Blaine’s hand to his mouth and brushes his lips against the skin.  Blaine doesn’t care at all that there are a dozen customers and three co-workers watching.

“I’m going to come back and take you out to lunch, ok?”  Kurt’s eyes are so very blue and his lashes are long and pale.

“Kurt.” Blaine can’t really protest though; he wants little more than to see Kurt as often as possible, every day.  For the rest of his life, if he’s being perfectly honest with himself.

“I’ll bring some sandwiches and we’ll walk around, get some air, talk about what horrible movie we’re going to watch tonight.  Ok?”

Blaine finally smiles and something like hope and happiness and  _forever_  settles, deep and warm, in his chest.  Kurt has done for him what no one else has.  Ever.  It’s not just this moment, although that’s huge, it’s everything.  And that means something, even if Blaine can’t quite name what it is.  It’s only been a couple of months.  Glorious, life-changing months, but it still seems too soon to put to name what he feels for Kurt.  It seems too soon to say  _I’m yours, if you’ll have me_ , even if it’s the soul-deep truth.

“Ok,” Blaine whispers.  The smile that lights up Kurt’s face is more than enough to erase the stain of that customer from Blaine’s day.

“Great.  I’ll see you in a little bit." 

Kurt turns to leave, without ordering his usual drinks.  Blaine imagines Kurt’s boss won’t mind too much, considering the circumstances.  He hears himself calling out to Kurt without realizing he’s doing it.

“Kurt, I-” Blaine can feel the words he’s not ready to say bubbling up in his throat.  He swallows them down.  A Starbucks in the middle of Times Square, on a wet and grey November morning, surrounded by flabbergasted customers, is not the time or place to say the most important words he knows, but has never said before.

“Thank you,” is what Blaine  _can_  say.  But the look Kurt gives him, soft and knowing, understanding, makes him wonder if Kurt heard those other words anyway.

 


End file.
